☼ fia the crownless ☼
the beloved dead are gone, could not be more gone - only the death stays.
“Loyalty and kindness shall eternally be returned with mercy and accommodation where the grand sun rises, m’lady.”
Her term of address – something that Seraphina had not heard since before she was dethroned – gave the silver momentary pause, before she brushed it aside as another quirk of the girl’s speech. “Thank you,” she says, with a dip of her head. In Solterra, she never knows what to anticipate – the nation (and her people) shift like the dunes. However, even when she was a girl, Seraphina recalls stories she heard of Delumine and their kindness, their wisdom. Save for some – largely historical, as she understands it, but does not know – minor conflicts with Terrastella, the sunrise kingdom had served as a bastion of hope and kindness even while Denocte and Solterra were embroiled in war.
Of course, their neutrality came with a certain degree of evil – it always did. She was not sure if she could forgive the passivity of the other courts, knowing what Zolin was doing to his nation, although she could understand it; she would never want to bring her kingdom into a war, particularly if the conflict did not involve her people. And perhaps that was irresponsible, too; she would be endangering her own for the sake of others, something that, as a leader, she knows that she should never do. Should never have done, she corrects. As far as she knows, she never did – and it makes her glad that any deep affection she held for the other courts or their people had been smothered quick in her breast. It’s a cruel way of thinking, and she knows it, and a hard one, but-
To lead is to limit your love, to compose your heart and control the way that it beats in your chest. You cannot have both.
She smiles, gentle and pleased, at her compliment, and her response to her question is stated simply and plainly enough. “Nay. A fusty declaration, but true anon…ask and thou shalt receive.” She wonders what made the girl decide to become a warrior, to request it before she likely needed to decide her profession – but she doesn’t ask. Not yet.
“I see,” comes her response. She rather questions the Dawn kingdom’s judgement, in that regard, sure as the girl seems of her capabilities as a warrior; good soldiers were rarely born without some sort of mentor to teach them the ins-and-outs of combat. (Much as she loathed Viceroy, he was a mentor to her. She did not want to give his “training” any credit, but she was certainly a better warrior for his teachings, brutal as they were.) But, then, she dislikes the notion of any child on the real battlefield, and, though she is on the brink of maturity and far older than she had been when she was made a soldier, Seraphina knows that she is looking at a girl.
(She knows that she is looking at a girl, and, though she does not say it – cannot say it –, she fears that Novus stands on the brink of a war, if Raum has his way. She does not want to imagine this girl like her, lying bloodied in a ditch, her flanks ripped open and her body battered beneath a flurry of hooves…)
--
They pass the time easily, engaged in small talk that Seraphina has almost missed, though she was never much good at it – but it reminds her of easier things that rebellion and kingslaying. The Dawn Court is as beautiful and pristine as she recalls from the last time that she was here (at the festival, she thinks), all smooth marble and surprisingly lovely foliage in spite of the winter chill. It feels colorful, though labyrinthian, and warm, though the cold is biting into her skin beneath her armor.
“The sovereign is just ahead,” the girl says, then, turning her dark eyes on Seraphina. “I pray thou art able to conduct thy business with ease and efficiency. Until next time, Solterran comrade.” Comrade. She thinks of the Solterra of her childhood, resented by the rest of the continent as a bloodthirsty, slave-holding nation of warmongers.
Comrade. She hopes that Raum does not make the rest of the continent think of her people that way again – she hopes that they can see evil at the root.
“Thank you for your guidance, Maerys. I hope that we may meet again, someday.” And, if she lives through this, futureless as she feels her path is, she truly hopes that she does.
----------------------------------------------------------
tags | @Maerys
notes | not mine, either - but thank you so much for the lovely thread!sorry I'm so terribly slow
the beloved dead are gone, could not be more gone - only the death stays.
“Loyalty and kindness shall eternally be returned with mercy and accommodation where the grand sun rises, m’lady.”
Her term of address – something that Seraphina had not heard since before she was dethroned – gave the silver momentary pause, before she brushed it aside as another quirk of the girl’s speech. “Thank you,” she says, with a dip of her head. In Solterra, she never knows what to anticipate – the nation (and her people) shift like the dunes. However, even when she was a girl, Seraphina recalls stories she heard of Delumine and their kindness, their wisdom. Save for some – largely historical, as she understands it, but does not know – minor conflicts with Terrastella, the sunrise kingdom had served as a bastion of hope and kindness even while Denocte and Solterra were embroiled in war.
Of course, their neutrality came with a certain degree of evil – it always did. She was not sure if she could forgive the passivity of the other courts, knowing what Zolin was doing to his nation, although she could understand it; she would never want to bring her kingdom into a war, particularly if the conflict did not involve her people. And perhaps that was irresponsible, too; she would be endangering her own for the sake of others, something that, as a leader, she knows that she should never do. Should never have done, she corrects. As far as she knows, she never did – and it makes her glad that any deep affection she held for the other courts or their people had been smothered quick in her breast. It’s a cruel way of thinking, and she knows it, and a hard one, but-
To lead is to limit your love, to compose your heart and control the way that it beats in your chest. You cannot have both.
She smiles, gentle and pleased, at her compliment, and her response to her question is stated simply and plainly enough. “Nay. A fusty declaration, but true anon…ask and thou shalt receive.” She wonders what made the girl decide to become a warrior, to request it before she likely needed to decide her profession – but she doesn’t ask. Not yet.
“I see,” comes her response. She rather questions the Dawn kingdom’s judgement, in that regard, sure as the girl seems of her capabilities as a warrior; good soldiers were rarely born without some sort of mentor to teach them the ins-and-outs of combat. (Much as she loathed Viceroy, he was a mentor to her. She did not want to give his “training” any credit, but she was certainly a better warrior for his teachings, brutal as they were.) But, then, she dislikes the notion of any child on the real battlefield, and, though she is on the brink of maturity and far older than she had been when she was made a soldier, Seraphina knows that she is looking at a girl.
(She knows that she is looking at a girl, and, though she does not say it – cannot say it –, she fears that Novus stands on the brink of a war, if Raum has his way. She does not want to imagine this girl like her, lying bloodied in a ditch, her flanks ripped open and her body battered beneath a flurry of hooves…)
--
They pass the time easily, engaged in small talk that Seraphina has almost missed, though she was never much good at it – but it reminds her of easier things that rebellion and kingslaying. The Dawn Court is as beautiful and pristine as she recalls from the last time that she was here (at the festival, she thinks), all smooth marble and surprisingly lovely foliage in spite of the winter chill. It feels colorful, though labyrinthian, and warm, though the cold is biting into her skin beneath her armor.
“The sovereign is just ahead,” the girl says, then, turning her dark eyes on Seraphina. “I pray thou art able to conduct thy business with ease and efficiency. Until next time, Solterran comrade.” Comrade. She thinks of the Solterra of her childhood, resented by the rest of the continent as a bloodthirsty, slave-holding nation of warmongers.
Comrade. She hopes that Raum does not make the rest of the continent think of her people that way again – she hopes that they can see evil at the root.
“Thank you for your guidance, Maerys. I hope that we may meet again, someday.” And, if she lives through this, futureless as she feels her path is, she truly hopes that she does.
----------------------------------------------------------
tags | @Maerys
notes | not mine, either - but thank you so much for the lovely thread!
I'M IN A ROOM MADE OUT OF MIRRORSand there's no way to escape the violence of a girl against herself.☼please tag Sera! contact is encouraged, short of violence
